


Out of Practice

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode Related, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7399270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't matter to Aramis if it's been years since he's done this - he still wants to make it perfect. (Coda fic for 3x01)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlarinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlarinda/gifts).



> Written for a prompt JL gave me: "aramis blowing porthos and it being all awkward and silly and him being frustrated he's out of practice" - because we both agreed it'd been far too long* since I last wrote a bj fic. 
> 
> * it's actually only been like a month but #yolo ?

It is a simple matter to push Porthos down onto his bed and kneel down in front of him. He grins up at him and leans in, nuzzling first at this thigh. When he moves up to nuzzle at Porthos’ cock through his trousers, though, Porthos starts to laugh. 

He stops. Looks up at him. “What?” 

“Sorry, just,” Porthos says, trying not to laugh – looking embarrassed, a blush on his cheeks, and he’s so handsome, Aramis thinks. Devastatingly handsome. His grin is all dimples. He says, “It’s just been a while. It’s— strange.”

Aramis pouts. Sits up a bit on his knees and leans up to kiss him. He has to strain to reach him but Porthos slouches down to meet him and kisses him back. 

“You’re not allowed to laugh,” he says. “I’ll get shy.”

“You have never been shy,” Porthos laughs as Aramis drops his hands to his belts and starts to undress him. “And you never will be, I’d guess.” 

“A good guess,” Aramis demurs and leans in to kiss Porthos again for his troubles. He slows it down this time, takes his time with it – gentle, slow, savoring. Porthos sighs into the kiss and relaxes. 

He manages to get his trousers off. Porthos lifts his hips after a few moments of Aramis tugging hard enough to try to pull them down. With his help, Aramis manages to slip it off. His cock is already half-hard and Aramis stares at him for a long moment. 

“Oh,” he says, and knows he’s gone breathless. It’s been an exceptionally long time. 

Porthos laughs, self-conscious. “What?”

“No, no,” Aramis is quick to reassure, shuffling forward on his knees, pressing a kiss to Porthos’ stomach. “It’s good. So good.” 

Porthos laughs again, softer this time. 

Aramis runs his hands over his thighs and hips, then reaches out to curl his hand around Porthos’ cock. His breath hitches. It’s been years since he’s touched him like this, touched anyone like this, and it’s suddenly difficult to breathe. Porthos shivers at the touch and his cock starts to thicken even with just this touch. Aramis bites his lip and strokes, slowly, easing him into hardness. 

Porthos’ breath goes quiet, little sighs and moans as Aramis strokes him off. It’s not what he intends, kneeling down between Porthos’ legs like this, but it seems necessary – an easing into this again. He watches Porthos’ hands flex, as if about to reach for him and second-guessing, his fingers curling into the blanket. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Aramis says, quietly, before he can stop himself. This time when he shuffles forward and nuzzles against Porthos’ cock, lets his mouth and cheek slide against it, Porthos does not laugh. He ducks his head and moans quietly. 

Encouraged, Aramis mouths at the thick underside of his cock, works his way to the tip and suckles at it, licking and lapping at it with his tongue. He can go slow with this. He can take his time. Porthos is shaking above him, his body trembling, his thighs shifting to widen around him, his hips shucking forward to get closer to the edge of the bed. 

Aramis swirls his tongue along the cockhead and then leans forward, attempts to swallow more of him – and chokes. He recoils quickly. 

“Sorry,” Porthos says, and his lips suggest a smile even when his eyes are concerned. Aramis shakes his head quickly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He heaves out and leans back onto his heels, his knees already protesting being on the floor for so long. It’s a strange thought – years ago, it wouldn’t have bothered him, at least not this quickly. He frowns and coughs a little, trying to steady his breathing. 

The bulk of Porthos’ cock has always been a blessing, already thick between his legs, where he sits with them spread, wide enough that Aramis can sit comfortably between them. But now it looks and feels just a little overwhelming. A little too much. A challenge. Aramis presses his hands to his thighs as he balances on his feet, trying to get into a position he can actually manage. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Porthos says, just as he said before, as if Aramis falling to his knees before Porthos, pressing his mouth to him, was some sort of _obligation_ or a hardship. It’s anything but. 

He runs his hands over Porthos’ thighs, shaking his head and looking up at him with a teasing smile. “Don’t be so quick to get rid of me.” 

Porthos’ expression flickers and for a moment he fears he’s overstepped. But then Porthos just laughs, curls a hand into his hair and says, “Never.” 

Aramis sighs and leans into the touch, waits until Porthos’ hand is close enough to kiss his open palm in a silent praise, nuzzling into it, answering Porthos’ gentleness with his own intent. Porthos’ fingers curl gently at his jaw, thumb at his lower lip. 

Still, it’s proving more difficult than he’d expected. 

He pouts. “I should be better at this.”

“It’s been years,” Porthos tells him. “You can’t just – _jump_ onto it.” 

Aramis snorts out a laugh and Porthos grins at him – those dimples again. Aramis’ stomach feels all flippy, flopping and twisting up. Seeing that look, that look turned towards him, is enough to make him feel rather floaty. 

He waggles his eyebrows at him as he kisses Porthos’ thumb. “I’m sure you’d love me to jump onto it.” 

Porthos barks out a laugh. “Dunno, that might hurt.” 

“Slide onto it, then,” Aramis says with a long, lofty sigh. Porthos laughs, louder, just as he’d hoped. He hums out thoughtfully and presses a few kisses to Porthos’ thigh, his hip, his stomach. “Later, though. First, I do intend to suck you off, my dear friend.” 

“Lucky me,” Porthos laughs, ears turning pink. 

“I think I’m the lucky one in this situation,” Aramis says, prim, and strokes his hand over his cock, leaning in to kiss the tip. “If I get to do this for you.” 

He rolls Porthos’ balls in his hand and strokes him hard, breaths out against the tip of his cock. Porthos shifts. His cock is dark and thick in his hand, his fingers curled around him as he strokes him, drags his tongue along the cockhead. 

Porthos sighs out, ducking his head. “Just don’t do too much at once.” 

Aramis waggles his eyebrows up at him, grinning, lets the cock slide against his cheek as he leans in, mouths at the length of him, pillows his lips at the base, licks at his balls once. 

He is, of course, terrible at following directions. He tries again to get his mouth around him, to swallow him down, and again he chokes. The cock is heavy against his tongue and he can barely get even a fraction of him down into his mouth before his throat constricts and he has to back off with a small, choking gasp. 

“What the hell did I just say?” Porthos asks, breathless but looking worried.

Aramis, though, is stubborn. He frowns, stroking Porthos off with a stubborn determination he knows Porthos appreciates, despite his worry. He curls his mouth eagerly around Porthos’ cock again, determined to get this right, and sucks. Porthos’ taste is on his tongue and he slides his tongue over him – awkwardly at first, trying to get the pace right, trying to curl around him and suckle. He forgets to breathe and it rattles out of his nose abruptly before he sucks in another sharp breath. He feels Porthos shifting beneath his mouth, the tension of his thighs shifting against his hands, the stroke of his hips upward as he tries to hold himself still and steady for Aramis. 

What Aramis wants is to be able to swallow him down entirely. He could do that, once, Porthos’ thick cock down his throat, his nose brushing against his naval. What he wants is for Porthos to grab his hair and rut into him with abandon, unafraid of hurting him because Aramis could handle it, swallow him down easily while Porthos finds his release. 

It seems it’s not to be. He suckles at the cockhead but can’t take much more than that. He bobs his head, tries to coax him further – but it is not a sure thing and Porthos is, quite obviously, holding himself back. He’s leaning back against his hands, his breathing ragged, his body trembling, but his hips stubbornly still. 

“Porthos,” Aramis whines out when he draws back for breath. He curls his hand around his cock, presses his thumb to the cockhead. 

“What?” Porthos moans out, and with his mouth gone, he does start rocking into Aramis’ hand. 

Aramis frowns and squeezes around his cock. Strokes harder. Leans in and kisses his cockhead – and Porthos’ hips abruptly still. 

Aramis makes a sound of frustration, his knees protesting as he sits up and shuffles closer. “Porthos,” he says, seriously. “You don’t have to hold back.” 

Porthos rolls his eyes at him. “You’ve choked like five times.” 

“Only four,” Aramis protests, and then shakes his head, “and more importantly, this is about you feeling good.”

Porthos gives him a lopsided grin, his hair falling over his forehead as he ducks his head, shaking it a little. “What makes you think I don’t feel good?” 

Aramis frowns more, running his fingertips along the length of his cock. Traces his thumb along the dip of his hip, where thigh meets pelvis. 

“It isn’t like before,” Aramis says and hates that he sounds like a petulant child for it. 

Porthos’ hand lifts and curls into his hair, thumb at the hinge of his jaw and tipping his face up to meet him. 

Porthos smiles at him. “I don’t need it to be like before. I just need you.” 

Aramis blinks at him, his heart suddenly thick in his throat, his stomach dropping away from him. He trembles and Porthos looks apologetic, his hand shifting, thumb pressing to his kiss-swollen bottom lip. Aramis closes his eyes – lets himself ride the crest of the emotions that twist up inside of him, hearing that.

“You have me,” he whispers. 

“I’ve got you,” Porthos agrees. 

They’re quiet for a moment. Aramis lifts himself up to reach for him and they kiss – slow and unhurried, weighted down with words they haven’t yet spoken but undoubtedly feel. 

When Aramis pulls back, it’s to cup Porthos’ cheeks. He smiles at him, wobbly, and feeling ridiculous for it. 

“I suppose it’s for the best,” he says, grave. “If I were to try to deepthroat, you’d come before I could even finish.” 

Porthos stares at him – and then bursts into laughter, leaning forward to bump his forehead against his. Aramis laughs, too – feels delirious, drunk in a way no wine can achieve hearing that laughter bubbling out of Porthos’ chest. Thick and deep and rich. Honeyed and gentled. Aramis can hardly breathe. 

“Good point,” Porthos snorts. He cups Aramis’ chin and leans in, kissing him deep, sweeping his tongue into his mouth – tasting himself on Aramis’ tongue. Aramis sighs and sinks forward, melting into Porthos. 

“Now that we’ve established as much,” Aramis says with a long sigh. “Will you be ever so kind, my dearest friend, to let me get you off now?” 

Porthos bursts into laughter, and keeps giggling even as Aramis grins and sinks back down onto his knees – after leaning forward and grabbing Porthos’ pillow to help cushion the position. He gets comfortable, shifting a bit, running his fingertips over Porthos’ thighs. 

“And please,” Aramis says. “Don’t hold back. There is a bit of a learning curve here, but I’m determined.” 

Porthos’ smile is crooked but he does nod. 

“And be a gentleman and pull my hair.” 

Porthos’ smile widens and he chuffs out a small laugh before dropping both hands to twist up into Aramis’ hair. Aramis luxuriates in it, arching and shivering as Porthos’ fingertips circle at his scalp and then curl up into his hair and tug. 

Aramis does have a practiced mouth, and he’s a quick learner, even if Porthos’ girth is a lot to wrap his mouth around. Porthos isn’t an impossible size, just a little daunting after four years of abstinence. But still, it’s easy to shuffle forward, to mouth at him, to pull his lips over his teeth and let himself slide over Porthos’ cock, tongue and lips and breath. His lips stretch, his tongue curls. He takes his time. He goes slow. He doesn’t want to choke again, doesn’t want Porthos to pull back. 

Porthos, for his part, does let his hips move, shifting forward in small little bursts. He eases his hips up when Aramis licks down the length of his cock. Tugs at his hair when Aramis circles his mouth around the cock and suckles. 

He doesn’t try to take too much. He’ll have to work himself up to that. He closes his eyes and just feels the cock against his tongue and tells himself, yes, there will be a next time, and a time after that. He’ll make Porthos come again and again with muffled shouts and hitching moans. He’ll do everything he can, to make up for that lost time. 

Aramis continues his languid, indulgent pace – now that he has the pace of it, the feeling of Porthos’ hands on him. HE shivers happily, sucks his cheeks to hollow around Porthos’ cockhead, swirls his tongue around the head. 

Porthos moans, loud, above him. Aramis glances up at him, sees Porthos’ entire body shivering, his head tipping back and then forward, hair falling into his eyes. Mouth lax and soft, kissable. Aramis squirms forward, whines out as he sucks around him. 

Porthos blinks his eyes open at the sound, tilting his head down to look at him – expression soft. Aramis whines out again, looking up at him. Porthos pets his hands through his hair, breathless, and smiles at him. 

“You’re really pretty,” Porthos tells him, and it’s hardly the most sophisticated compliment he’s ever received, much less from Porthos himself, and still Aramis full-body shivers and smiles around the cock in his mouth, running his hands up over Porthos’ stomach, his chest, tracing over his scars. Porthos smiles down at him, gentle and warm. 

His hand shifts in his hair, cups the back of his head and rests there. He doesn’t guide him forward or move him at all, letting Aramis move as he likes – but Aramis inches forward all the same, tries to take more of the cock in his mouth, suckles and curls his tongue. He doesn’t choke, but it’s a near thing. His mouth opens wide, tries to swallow him down. He keeps moving until he hears Porthos moan and he smiles his triumph. 

Soon, he hopes, soon he’ll be like before – able to swallow him completely, able to coax him to climax with just his mouth. For now, he laps at the tip and uses his hand to squeeze him at the base, coaxing him closer and closer. He can feel it in the way Porthos’ hips shift. It’s been years, but he knows the cadence of Porthos’ breath like his own, the shift of his body. He can tell the hitching breath means being close to the edge, knows the swivel of his hips in small, desperate circles can only mean release. 

He remembers it well, like yesterday – the feeling of wallowing around his cock, the feeling of the cockhead sliding into his throat. He always loved that part, the achievement something divine, the way he could work Porthos down to just throaty moans with just his mouth. 

Again, soon. He’ll be able to do that again. 

With him close now, Aramis shimmies closer and ducks his head, his sounds growing obscene – sucking on his cock as noisy as he can manage, coaxing out Porthos’ moans and hitches of breath. He sinks down, takes him down as far as he can go without choking, and strokes his hand the rest of the way, the slicking sound of skin on skin, his tongue lapping. 

The hands in his hair start tugging and Aramis tries to resist against it, even leans forward further – and he does choke again. Aramis drags back with a grunt of frustration, pouting, his jaw aching and his mouth slack with the taste of Porthos’ cock. 

“Honestly,” he grunts, wiping at his chin and mouth and pouting up at Porthos. “I really _should_ be better at this.” 

“I’m going to come,” Porthos tells him, ignoring his whining. It’s almost like old times. He pets through his hair. 

Aramis eyes his cock. “Well then. Don’t pull me back.” 

Porthos huffs out a laugh. “I like to be polite.” 

Aramis presses a sloppy kiss to this thigh and leans forward, taking his cock into his mouth without another word and suckles around him. It only takes a few shallow thrusts of Porthos’ hips before he does come. 

Aramis flinches at the sudden taste and hit of come in his mouth, but he’s stubborn. He doesn’t pull back and tries to drink him down. He does have to pull back after a moment, though, coughing. The come spills out onto his hand and he frowns down at it with a look of utter betrayal. 

“You alright?” Porthos asks, breathless, but looking at him in concern. 

Aramis looks up at him and licks at his fingertips pointedly. Porthos’ eyes shut and he groans out. 

Aramis leans forward, nuzzling at his cock as Porthos rides out the aftermath of his orgasm, his entire body shivering and oversensitive to the touch. Porthos slumps a little and Aramis nuzzles at his hip and stomach, pressing absent kisses against his skin. 

When he looks up at Porthos again, he’s looking down at him, expression gentle and reverent. 

Aramis beams up at him. “Not too bad for a monk, hm?” 

Porthos grins and laughs. “You gonna get naked and let me return the favor?” 

“Oh,” Aramis gasps out and struggles quickly to his feet, hands fumbling to get at his clothes. Porthos reaches out, rests his steadying hands against his hips. It’s almost painful how easy they fit back together again, like this.

Aramis hums out and leans in, kissing him slowly so that Porthos can taste himself, and lets Porthos strip him down easily. Porthos’ hands on him are ridiculous gentle and sweet. They always have been. Aramis suspects – hopes, with a suffocating need – that they always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found [on my tumblr,](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/) as always.


End file.
